


Leather and Glitter

by Illuminahsti



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom Juno, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Juno's mysterious past, Leather Kink, Light Bondage, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pole Dancing, Riding, Sub Peter, a plot interlude, both of them being possessive, except there's a tiny bit of plot, unfortunate references to Cecil Kanagawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 22:32:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16901052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illuminahsti/pseuds/Illuminahsti
Summary: For a case, Juno and Peter go to a biker bar. When Juno puts on an old pair of leather boots, Peter decides that he would rather stay in.





	Leather and Glitter

When Peter gets to Juno's office with lunch, he is sprawled on the narrow couch, one arm thrown dramatically over his eyes. He turns his head to look at Peter and grunts a greeting.

"Rough case?"

"Sorta," Juno says, and sits up and reaches for the sandwich Peter brought. "Apparently there's a drug ring being run out of this club in the East Village, and I've got plenty of people who are willing to cop to that, but I don't have any physical proof."

"I'm sure the HCPD won't do anything without incriminating evidence."

Juno grimaces. "Exactly."

"We could go do some snooping of our own," Peter says.

Juno rubs his nose. "It means I'll be home late tonight."

"I was just thinking we were due for a date night," Peter grins. Taking Juno to a club isn't his usual Friday night plan, but he'll take any excuse to get Juno somewhere that public groping is socially acceptable.

"No reason for you to go too," Juno grumbles. "I don't know if it's really your scene."

"Why not?"

"It's kind of grungy," he explains. "I don't think you own anything that would fit in there, for starters. And most of the people there are on drugs."

"Juno, I'm hardly a virginal lily."

There's something closed off about Juno's face, and he picks at his sandwich. "I know you aren't."

"So I'm happy to give this place a try." When Juno doesn't answer, Peter continues, "Are you saying you do have the right kind of clothes for a nightclub?"

"I....might," Juno says. "I'm not saying that to deflect, I don't know if they're still in my closet or not. I don't know if they still fit me, either."

Now that is interesting. Peter has put together bits and pieces of Juno's past, from comments he or Cecil Kanagawa or Mick have dropped, but physical proof is another matter.

"I could go check, if you're chained to your desk until 5," Peter offers. 

He must look a little too pleased, because Juno rolls his eyes. "I can probably take off a little early. I have some paperwork to do, but this is the only case I'm working on today."

"But I can go through your closet, right?"

Juno shakes his head in exasperation, but he does say, "Sure. I'll even let you dress me, if you want." 

* * *

Peter goes shopping on the way home. If they are going to a trashy night club, he certainly doesn't have anything suitable, and as much as me likes the idea of stealing from Juno's closet, he likes skintight clothes more. If he dresses just right, he might be able to get Juno to call the case off for a night. Juno always says he needs the money, but Peter knows he actually likes to work himself to exhaustion.

When he gets home, Juno is already there. He's in the shower, and Peter thinks about joining him, but instead starts going through the closet.

The clothes there are much more interesting than he expected. There are things he's seen before--the burgundy dress that is Juno's go-to dress up item, the several collared shirts he wears when he has to see clients, and the collection of henleys, t-shirts, and broken-in blue jeans that make up his daily rotation. On the far left of the closet, clearly rarely worn, are the more extravagant clothes. Peter pulls out a gold shirt covered in black geometric designs, and then a shirt made entirely of fishnet. There is a leather jacket that Peter takes a covert minute to inhale. It smells mostly of dust, but the smell of leather polish and old cigarettes are there too.

He lays the jacket on the bed and goes back to exploring.

"Shoulda known you'd be here," Juno says when he comes out of the bathroom. He's wearing only a pair of boxers, his towel slung around his shoulders.

"You gave me permission, I could hardly miss the opportunity," Peter purrs. "And I didn't expect to find such interesting things. It looks like you were quite a snappy dresser, back in the day."

Juno barks a laugh. “I had my moments. I never had your…” he waves vaguely at Peter.

“My what?” Peter prompts.

“You know what,” Juno says, and crosses to the dresser. Peter stops his searching to watch as Juno pulls out a pair of black jeans and tugs them on. He has to shimmy to get them over his hips and button them, but when they are on, they hug his muscular thighs and his ass and when he bends to pull his belt out of his dirty slacks, Peter has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making any noise.

Juno turns, unaware of the effect he is having on Peter, and casts an eye at the shopping bags on the bed. “Did you get something nice?”

“Nothing like what you’re wearing.”

Juno snorts. “What, a pair of old jeans that were bought by a skinnier version of me?”

“A pair of old jeans that make your ass look incredible.” Peter steps forward and gives into the urge to kiss Juno. They still have a few hours before they have to go anywhere, and Juno smells like soap and his body is right under Peter’s hands. He slides his fingers along Juno’s damp hair and smiles against his lips, but Juno pulls away.

“You want to get dinner on the way?” he asks.

“I can think of better ways to spend the evening.”

Juno’s smile is fond. “Yeah, me too, but I also know that I want to wrap this case up tonight, and you are… extremely distracting.” He trails his fingers down Peter’s bare arms as he speaks.

“You promise you’ll make it up to me after?”

“Make up for doing my job, which, might I remind you, pays our rent?”

“I pay half,” Peter protests.

“Don’t pout, or I’ll half fuck you,” Juno teases.

“Well, that’s just mean.” Peter steps back in mock affront, but he can’t stop a small smile from playing on his lips. A bossy Juno is always a treat.

Juno smirks, and Peter knows that he knows that he likes it.

“Get dressed,” Juno says, “and then I’ll buy you dinner.”

“Well, alright _Daddy._ ” Peter makes sure the sarcasm is thick in his voice, but Juno still gives him a startled look.

“Don’t call me that,” he says.

“You don’t like it?”

“It makes me think of Cecil.”

Peter grimaces. “You’re right, I’ll find something else.” He steps back, pulls the mesh shirt out of the closet, and holds it out to Juno.

Juno raises an eyebrow. “That’s more your style than mine.”

“It came out of your closet.”

“Yeah well, I used to make different choices about my clothes.”

Peter makes a show of studying the shirt. “It would still look good at you.”

“I’m trying not to attract attention tonight.”

“You said I could dress you,” Peter protests.

“I know but—I’m supposed to be undercover. Why don’t you wear it?”

“Oh, so I can be flamboyant and you can’t?”

Juno smiles. “Everyone’s going to look at you all night whether you’re wearing a parka or a mesh shirt, so I don’t see much point in trying to tone you down.”

“But they won’t be looking at you?”

He shrugs. “Peter, have you _seen_ yourself?”

“Oh, I’m beautiful when I want to be, sure. But you, darling, you’re magnetic.”

Juno turns back to his dresser and starts rifling through the drawers. “I don’t know what you’re trying to flatter me for, I’m not going to wear it.” He pulls a white t shirt out and tugs it over his head. This, too, is tighter than he usually wears, and stretches across his chest and biceps. The tattoo on his left arm is almost entirely visible. Peter bites his lip.

“You’re right, this is much better. It leaves a little to the imagination.”

“Sure,” Juno’s smile is crooked, teasing. “So, are you going to wear it?”

“If that’s what makes you happy.”

Juno doesn’t answer. Instead, he crosses to the closet and pulls a pair of boots from the very back.

They are calf high, made of soft leather so gently aged that Peter would believe it is real. Shiny purple laces march up the front, and heavy straps cross the arches to end in silver buckles. The thick soles have just enough of a heel to hook into a hover bike stirrup. Peter’s mouth goes dry.

“I didn’t know you had those,” he says, and his voice sounds almost normal.

“They’re heavy as hell,” Juno says, and sits to pull them on. Peter stands and watches as Juno’s capable fingers carefully tighten the laces, unaware that he has gone completely still until Juno looks up at him and breaks the spell. “I probably should have polished them first, huh?”

“I’ll do it,” Peter said, and this time his voice is slightly hoarse. “You don’t have to take them off. Where’s the polish?”

“Uh, probably somewhere in the back of the closet. You okay?”

“Oh, yes.” He takes a moment to steady his breathing while searching the closet. He finds the tin of leather polish and crawls over to kneel between Juno’s feet. When he looks up and meets Juno’s gaze, he is watching him with that sharp eye that tells Peter his nonchalance has not been believed.

Well, Juno has always known the way to his heart anyway.

He lifts one of Juno’s booted feet into his lap. The wax is stiff and dry, but Peter warms it in his hands before he smears it on the soft cloth and begins to polish. He keeps his movements precise and controlled, rubbing small circles across the toe until it shines. He applies the same treatment to the straps, his gaze fixed strictly downward.

When the foot of the boot is finished to his standards, he swipes a thumb along the side to feel the soft, warm texture and then dips the cloth back into the tin of polish. He shifts and begins to rub up Juno’s leg in long, slow strokes. His fingers caress his ankle, the curve of his calf muscles.

Juno lets out a soft sigh. “You really like these boots, huh?”

Peter looks up, and Juno is watching him, eyes half lidded. Peter’s breath catches, and his face grows hot. “Is it that obvious?”

“You’ve been quiet for almost five minutes now.”

Peter smiles, embarrassed. “The boots are… quite striking on you. I’m hurt that you haven’t shown them to me before.”

“I would have, if I’d known I would get this kind of reaction.”

Peter exhales slowly and takes the second boot into his lap. He could say more, but he is very much enjoying the action of serving Juno, the smell of the wax and the sound of his breathing.

“So, is it the leather, or the boots?”

“Can’t it be both?” Peter sneaks a glance at Juno, who is still watching him intently.

“You didn’t have this reaction about that harness you bought.”

“It’s different when it’s you, wearing it,” Peter explains. “You look so commanding like this.” He can’t stop his hands from continuing to roam over Juno’s legs.

Juno makes a small noise of understanding. “And the jacket?” he asks, casting his eyes on the leather jacket that Peter had laid out on the bed.

Peter meets his gaze and holds it. “I would _very much_ like you to wear the jacket tonight.” His voice is low, insistent, a note of pleading in it.

A slow smile spreads over Juno’s face. “Oh, I will,” he promises. “I think we’re going to have fun tonight.”

Peter can hardly breathe. He would be blushing, but all the blood in his body has left his head and migrated south at the hint of a growl in Juno’s voice, at the promise. He swallows dryly, unable to break Juno’s stare.

“Finish up and get dressed,” Juno commands. “I’ve got work to do.” 

* * *

The club is exactly as grungy as Juno promised. Peter isn’t scared--he is never scared, and the half dozen knives hidden under his clothes are a further reassurance--but he still appreciates the way Juno’s hand settles at the small of his back as they walk further in.

It’s more of a saloon than a club, really, with a lot of small tables where people cluster over fried food and beer and laugh loudly. A narrow hipped, scantily clad person dances on a platform above the crowd. Someone whistles and tosses a cred at them, and they wave in response. There is an electric bull in the corner. While they watch, a man mounts it and is thrown in the time it takes for Peter to slip his hand into Juno’s back pocket.

“Let’s get a drink,” Juno says, and guides them to the bar.

The bartender gives Juno a hard look. She is an older woman with grey streaked hair and silver teeth, and her tank top has a symbol on it that Peter would bet is a biker gang logo, even if he can’t identify which gang.

“Hey Max,” Juno says, leaning on the bar. “Been a while.”

“A long while. Last I heard you were working for the government again.”

Juno grimaces. “Word does get around. Yeah, I took a paycheck and learned my lesson. Again.”

Max nods and says, “What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey,” Juno says. “And whatever he wants.”

Peter smiles. “How nice to meet an old friend of Juno’s.”

“We aren’t friends,” she says. “He used to hang around here and make trouble with a different twink, that’s all.”

Peter doesn’t like the hot jealousy that shoots through his chest like a meteor, but it is there all the same. He tightens his grip on Juno, who only spares him a half a glance before he lowers his voice and says to Max, “Speaking of that, I promised Petunia I’d show him a good time. You know if Ravi’s around tonight?”

“Ravi hasn’t been around in years,” Max says.

“You know anyone else?” Juno pushes.

Max narrows her eyes. “How do I know you’re not here for the HCPD?”

“Come on, Max, you know I fucking hate the cops. I’m just looking for enough white dove for two people, and then I’ll get out of your hair. I brought cash.” He flashes a wad of cred at her. She looks unimpressed.

“Please, Max,” Peter croons. “I hear sex is just incredible with white dove, and I so want to try it.”

Max smirks. “He can’t keep you satisfied the old fashioned way, huh?”

“Hey,” Juno says, “That’s not--”

Another customer comes up to the counter and Max pushes their drinks at them. “Stick around,” she says. “I’ll see what I can do.”

When she goes to tend the other customers, Juno grumbles, “Was that really necessary?”

“It’s not my fault she made the inference.”

“You’re lucky I’m working.”

“If you weren’t working, we’d be in bed right now, so no, I’m not.”

Juno glances out at the crowd. “Well, we’ve got some time to kill. What do you want to do?”

Peter swirls the cherry around his drink. He keeps his eyes on the man mounting the mechanical bull again when he asks, “Who was the twink you used to come around here with?”

“Huh? Oh, Cecil, during his really rebellious phase.”

“Cecil Kanagawa? Who used to call you Daddy?”

“What are you—” He catches Peter’s chin in his hand and forces him to look Juno in the eye. “Are you jealous?”

“And what if I am?”

“How can you think for a second that I would rather be here with Cecil than with you?”

“It’s not that--it’s just--” Peter isn’t sure what it is, but he does know that anything he says is going to sound petulant. “Between the jacket and the boots and the fact that you used to hook up with Cecil Kanagawa, of all people, it’s a lot to take in.”

“You like the jacket.”

“I do, but it’s a new side to you.”

Juno looks, for a second, like he’s going to argue. He has plenty to argue about, considering Peter’s long and secret history. Instead, he softens. “Alright, first of all, Cecil has never called me Daddy, no matter how high we were, and if he had I probably would have decked him. He calls Croesus Daddy, and this is absolutely the last time we are going to discuss the traumatizing places my brain has been forced to go in the last thirty seconds. Second of all, yes, Cecil and I got high and fucked on a regular basis, a decade ago. If you really want to know, sometimes I did it with Cassandra instead—separately. Third—” his shoulders sag a little, the defensive posture gone completely now, “I’m here with you because there is absolutely no one I would rather go anywhere with, even if it means I have to relive my twenties in front of you.”

“Okay,” Peter says.

“Okay? That’s it?”

Peter is still processing the avalanche of information that Juno has given him. He blinks, slowly, and says, “Thank you for telling me. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous about it, but…”

“No,” Juno says. “The jealousy is… kind of nice, actually. It’s just wild to have it directed at Cecil. That was a long time ago.”

“Oh? Anyone more recent I should be getting catty with?”

Juno’s lips twitch. “Even if there was, I think it would be dangerous to tell you about them when you’re carrying that many knives.”

“Oh, you noticed that?”

“I watched you get dressed.”

“A man must always be prepared,” Peter quips.

Juno steps forward and trails his hands up over Peter’s denim clad hips to settle on his waist. One hand slides to settle on the small of his back, where a knife is hidden under the waistband of his high-waisted shorts. He can feel Juno’s skin, warm and callused, through the mesh shirt, and the press of his leather jacket. He leans forward for a kiss, and Juno smiles. “You want to get a table?”

“Juno Steel!” A loud voice booms. Juno tightens his grip on Peter’s hip as he turns towards the man walking towards them.

“Hey,” Juno says slowly.

“Who’s this?” Peter whispers.

Juno shakes his head minutely.

“An old flame?”

“Pete--” He breaks off as the man gets closer.

The man is as tall as Peter and twice as wide. He claps a hand on Juno’s shoulder. “Never expected to see you here again. Who’s this?”

“Petunia Jade,” Peter says, and smiles wide as he offers his hand.

“Douglas,” the man says. His grip is crushing. “What brings you two back here?”

“Oh, you know,” Juno says. “Max isn’t being very cooperative, though.”

Douglas laughs. “That’s Max for you. She’s gotta protect her bar. Here, I’ll take you in the back and get you what you need.”

“Thanks,” Juno says, and tugs Peter back towards the bar.

Douglas shakes his head. “Sorry, bud. You’ll have to wait out here.”

Peter’s mouth falls open. “I’m not--”

“You’re a stranger. We trust Jay here, but you could be anyone. Don’t worry,” he winks. “I’ll give him back in one piece.”

Juno pulls away from Peter. “Sorry, Sweetheart,” he says. “I won’t be long.”

Peter feels slightly ridiculous, but he’s upset. He leans forward and leaves a bright purple lipstick mark on Juno’s cheek, then smiles brightly. “You better,” he says cheerfully, and pushes Juno towards Douglas.

As they walk off together, Douglas slaps Juno on the ass, and Peter decides that he really hates the man. 

* * *

Peter downs his drink and casts his eyes around the saloon again. A few people are eyeing him, some with interest, some with distrust. He doesn’t want a single one of them to talk to him. Right now, he only wants Juno, and Juno is in another room with another man, trying to do his job.

He can at least make sure that when Juno comes back, he has something distracting to do. Hopefully, something distracting enough to make him leave this drug den.

Peter orders a shot of tequila and then heads for the recently vacated dance pole. He took pole dancing lessons for a con, and kept it up for the exercise, and the memories are still there even if he is a little out of practice. He takes a couple warm up spins before he really gets into it, rolling his hips against the cold metal. He mounts the pole and locks his legs to rotate slowly, arms outstretched. He bends back slowly, the sheath of the knife at the small of his back digging into his ass. The one in his left boot is pressed between his calf and the pole.

He runs his hands up his torso and through his hair, and then sits up in mid air and grabs the pole to slide down it.

“Hey babe,” a woman leans on the platform. Peter squats and lets one of his legs point out, nearly off the edge of the platform, and tilts his head towards her and flashes his best smile. She reaches a hand forward. “Did you get left behind?”

Peter glances toward the door Juno disappeared behind, and then back at the woman.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he says. “But if I was, you’ll be the first to know.”

She blushes a little, and Peter climbs the pole again. The door he has been watching, and Juno steps out, hands deep in his pockets.

In the time it takes Peter to make one rotation, Juno has spotted him. Their eyes lock, and then Juno is storming across the floor, in that coat and those heavy boots, face twisted with--frustration? Anger? Peter’s pulse quickens with excitement.

He slides to his knees, gives the people sitting behind his a fantastic view of his ass, and then pushes up again, thighs straining.

Juno is looking up at him, his fingers clenched on the edge of the platform.

“Get down here,” he orders.

Peter’s smile is coquettish. “Or what?”

“Has anyone else touched you?”

Peter’s smile widens as he swings his legs around and jumps down, right next to Juno.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He asks, and a thrill runs through him. He’s playing with fire now, and it feels amazing. When Juno gets would up like this, the sex lasts until neither of them can move, and Peter can barely form words. He can tease Juno, make him wild with jealousy, because under it all they trust each other. This is just a game, a game that will end with Peter restrained and begging for release.

Juno takes a fistful of Peter's silver vest in one hand and seizes his chin in a bruising grip with the other. His kiss is deep, messy, violent, and when he pulls back, Peter's lipstick is smeared across his lips. Peter has to use Juno as support to make sure he stays upright.

“We’re leaving,” Juno growls. “Now.”

He doesn’t give Peter time to protest before he is tugging him towards the door. Between the dancing, the tequila, and the tone in Juno’s voice, Peter can barely keep his legs under him. He leans in to Juno and digs his nails into Juno’s hip as they stumble out.

Juno spins him and slams him into the cement wall, his arms pinning Peter.

Peter struggles to breathe.

“Were you trying to kill me?” he pants.

“Just thought I’d give you a little show,” Peter protests. “Did you like it?”

“Holy hell,” Juno breathes, and then he is kissing him again. Peter runs a hand between Juno’s legs and squeezes, and he gets a groan into his mouth in response.

Juno pulls back, his breathing as ragged as Peter’s, and presses his face against Peter’s throat.

“First you wear those shorts,” he grumbles, “and I’m barely holding it together while I’m trying to work, and then I come back to that? You’re lucky I was ready to go, or I might have done something really embarrassing.”

“You,” Peter argues, “have been torturing me all night, walking around like you own the place without giving me the attention I need—“

He tips Juno’s head up and kisses him with teeth, teasing Juno’s lips. Juno whimpers, then jams his hands into Peter’s back pockets and pulls his hips closer so his half hard cock rubs against Juno.

It is Peter’s turn to let out a desperate whimper. He struggles to follow Juno’s words, because he is rapidly losing control.

“Did you get what you needed?” he asks.

“Yeah, pictures and all.”

“And Douglas?”

“Is an asshole. Don’t worry about him. Let’s go home.”

“Good,” Peter groans. “Because I have been so turned on all evening that it’s starting to hurt.”

Juno’s laugh doesn’t help Peter’s state. He pulls back and walks towards the car, one of his hands twined with Peter’s.

He strips off his leather jacket before his gets into the driver’s seat, muscles flexing in his thin shirt, and Peter stares. It isn’t until Juno gets into the car that Pater can move again.

Juno hands him the jacket before he starts the car. Peter clutches it on his lap, fingers tight against the smooth material. It is heavy, arousingly present, and it smells like Juno now. Juno glances out of the corner of his eye, a smirk playing on his lips, and Peter knows that Juno gave it to him on purpose.

“You going to make it home okay?” He teases.

“You’ve already put a hard ban on road head, so I shall be forced to keep my hands to myself.” 

* * *

They are kissing as soon as the elevator door closes behind them. Peter’s lust is a deep, pounding fire in his gut, too entire to feel frantic, too desperate to be sensual. His hands are tight against Juno’s leather clad shoulders, and he digs his fingers in to try to pull Juno’s entire presence into himself.

“Juno,” he pants between kisses. “You are going to be the death of me.”

The elevator dings, and Juno drags Peter by his belt loops into the apartment. Peter strips his knee high boots off and then his vest, but when Juno undoes the laces on his own boots, Peter stops him.

“Leave them on?”

“I can’t take my pants off over my boots.”

“So leave them on too.”

Juno grins. “You want me to step on you while I’m at it?”

The look on Peter’s face must be answer enough.

“Alright,” he says. “You just tell me what you want.”

Peter feels a little dizzy. “No,” he begs. “I want to serve you.”

“Bedroom,” Juno commands. “And take your clothes off.”

Juno follows close behind him, drops the jacket on the floor, and follows with his t shirt. When he gives Peter an expectant look, Peter quickly shimmies out of his shorts and then follows with Juno’s mesh shirt.

Juno’s tongue darts out between his lips, and he swallows.

“Get on your knees,” he says. His voiced has pitched lower, and Peter’s stomach trembles as he obeys.

He sits on his feet, hands tight on his thighs, and looks up.

Juno steps forward, and stops just out of Peter's reach. Peter leans forward.

"You want this?" Juno asks. The smile is gone now; his gaze is so hot that Peter's skin tingles like he's being touched. Juno is fully in scene now, and Peter doesn't know what to expect.

"Please, Juno, I--" he reaches forward.

Juno steps back. "Don't move until I give you permission," he says. "Or I'll tie you up."

"I'm sorry," he whines. "Tie me up then, I won't be able to resist."

"You will," Juno says. "You'll do exactly what I say, because you want to please me. Don't you?"

"Yes," Peter says. "Yes, let me serve you Juno." He steps back into Peter's reach and opens his pants, pulls out his cock and strokes it slowly. His gaze never leaves Peter's face.

"Do you want to touch me?"

"I need to," Peter says. "I've needed to for hours, please, Juno."

Juno takes the last step forward to close the space between them. The toes of his boots press against the outside of Peter's thighs. He trembles and digs his fingers into his skin. He will be patient.

Juno slides his fingers through Peter's hair. It is a soft touch, but Peter lets out a sharp exhale. He bites his tongue before he begs Juno to pull it harder. Juno knows what he likes, and Juno will give it to him, when he decides it is time.

"Touch me," Juno says, so low his voice vibrates.

Peter reaches for his cock, and Juno makes a tsking noise in the back of his throat. "Not yet," he says. "You like the boots so much, you start there."

Peter does; he starts at Juno's ankles, wraps his hands around the polished leather, strokes his hands up and down the sides of his calves, squeezes gently at the muscles. He leans down and drags his lips against the top seam of the boots. His eyes still fixed on Juno's face, he moves his hands up the front of Juno's thighs, over the curves of his hips, back down over his ass, his fingers pressing into the skin hard enough to really feel the substance of Juno, soft enough that he won't leave marks.

Juno's breathing is uneven too, his regular eye dark and intense. When Peter slides his hands around the back of Juno's knees, Juno shifts his hips forward and slides his cock into Peter's mouth.

He relaxes his jaw, eager to take all of him at once, but Juno takes a tight grip on his hair and sets the pace himself. It is gentle, his thrusts even. Juno will beg Peter to hurt him, but when he takes control, it is with a slow and careful deliberation.

Peter swirls his tongue around the head of Juno's cock, and Juno lets out a soft cry and tightens his fist in Peter's hair. Peter's own cock throbs in response, and he reaches for it as a reflex.

"Don't--" Juno says. His voice breaks, but Peter obeys anyway. He looks up and hopes the pleading is clear in his gaze.

Juno pulls out, lets his shaft brush against Peter's cheek. "Your cock is mine," Juno says. "I'll be the only one touching it tonight."

"Please, touch me." Peter's voice is hoarse. "Juno, I want you so bad, I need you inside me again."

"You want me to fuck you?" Juno's smile says that Peter won't get what he wants.

"I need it," Peter begs anyway. He tries to turn his head, to run his tongue up Juno's cock, but Juno's grip on his hair is too tight.

"Back up," Juno tells him.

"No--"

"And stop arguing. It isn't going to get you anywhere."

Peter leans backwards, limbs feel clumsy as he tries to support himself on his arms.

Juno lifts a booted foot and presses it against Peter's chest. Peter leans back more, until he is lying on the floor, the rough carpet under his back.

"Juno, my goddess, you don't know how bad I need this. It hurts, please, I want to come," he babbles, as Juno stands over him, one foot on his chest.

"I think you can last a little longer," Juno smirks, and moves his foot so he is standing over Peter's hips. He sinks to his knees so he is straddling Peter, the seams of his jeans rough against Peter's cock. His pulls his knees in tight, and Peter is trapped between cool leather and hot denim, chest heaving. Juno braces his hands against Peter’s chest and pushes down to keep him in place, and then rolls his hips once, slowly, an agonizing gift of friction.

Peter lets out a high pitched whine, and Juno laughs and rolls his hips again, just as slow.

“Juno, darling, I can’t—”

“Shh,” Juno soothes. “I know you can hold on longer. I’m going to ride your cock soon, and you can finish once you’re inside of me.”

“Yes, please, _please--_ ”

Juno keeps grinding against Peter, and he takes one hand off Peter’s chest to stroke himself. Peter lifts an arm to wrap around Juno’s hand, and Juno doesn’t stop him. Together, they stroke Juno until they are both breathing raggedly and Juno is flushed and the movement of his hips is uneven.

“I’m close,” Peter warns. “Oh, Goddess, I’m _so_ close--”

Juno lifts his hips up so his only point of contact with Peter is his hand on Peter’s chest and his knees against Peter’s hips, and he thrusts into their hands one last time and comes over Peter’s chest and throat.

They have a moment of eye contact before Peter raises his hips in a silent plea. Juno pushes himself up and staggers to his feet. He does up his pants and fastens his belt.

“Juno,” Peter says plaintively.

Juno’s smile is wide and relaxed.

“I got you,” he says. “I’ll take care of you.” He steps back and sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread. “But first, take my boots off.”

Peter scrambles to his knees and reaches for Juno’s foot. He knows what Juno wants, knows what he wants, but he still struggles to take his time. Juno’s come is drying across his chest, but he ignores it in favor of focusing his attention on Juno. He carefully undoes the laces of one boot, loosening them all the way down to the buckle across the arch of Juno's foot so that it slides off easily. When it does, he looks up at Juno, asking for approval.

Juno blinks, slow and satisfied as a one eyed cat, and strokes his hand down Peter's cheek.

Peter could get performative--it is his greatest skill--but his skin prickles with impatience. He turns to the other boot. Juno obligingly lifts his foot so Peter can remove it as well. Peter puts them aside, lined up by the bedside table.

"Good boy," Juno says, and Peter's chest heats. "You've been so good to me, and now I'm going to take my time on you."

"That's not--"

"Peter."

He doesn't have to say more. Peter falls silent.

"Lay down on the bed," Juno says, and pushes himself up. Peter arranges himself on the bed while Juno walks into the bathroom. When he returns, Peter is spread out, arms above his head, waiting. Juno pulls a pair of soft cuffs from the bedside table and raises and eyebrow. Peter doesn't answer.

Juno slips the cuffs around one of Peter's wrists and tightens the buckle, then loops them through the slats of the headboard and fastens Peter's other wrist. Peter cannot pick the lock on a buckle, and while he could get out of these anyway, they are nothing more than a reminder that Juno is calling the shots.

When Peter is nominally restrained, Juno takes the washcloth and cleans Peter's chest. He moves slowly, caressing as he goes, leaving kisses against the clean, damp skin.

"Darling, please--"

Juno kisses him on the mouth and cuts him off. "I know," he says. "Be patient. I got you."

"You don't, you're teasing."

Juno laughs, the bastard. He finishes cleaning and gets off the bed again to pull his pants off. When he is naked, he leans over Peter and kisses him deeply.

Peter lifts his shoulders to lean into the kiss, opening his mouth. Juno slides his tongue in, slides their lips together. Peter grabs Juno's lower lip between his teeth, a daring nip. Juno growls and climbs over him. "I told you to be patient."

"And it's killing me."

"So dramatic." Juno kisses him again and runs his hands up, over Peter's hips and up his sides. He teases a nipple between his fingers, then bends to run his mouth over the other. After that, Peter loses track of exactly where Juno's hands and mouth are, because they feel like they are everywhere, caressing every inch of his skin. He is speaking, as Juno kisses down his chest and sucks on a hip bone, but he's not keeping track of what the words are. It is a repeated litany of the same praises, the same pleas.

Juno's mouth is around his cock, pumping slowly, his hands tight on Peter's hips, and Peter groans.

"That's feels so good, Juno, Darling, don't stop," he pants, but Juno does.

"You can keep making noise," Juno says. He reached to the bedside table and lubes his fingers before he begins to prep himself.

Peter moans and struggles against the restraints, eyes fixed on Juno's face. Juno bites his lip, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall, as he rides his own fingers. He makes small whimpering noises. Peter can only enjoy the show, watch the flush so intense that it is visible even against Juno's dark skin.

"Oh, yeah, I'm--" Juno breaks off with a sharp inhale and then he leans forward again. His lubed fingers against Peter’s cock are cold and slick and Peter rocks against the touch.

"That's right," Juno says. "You're almost there."

"That's what I tried to tell you," Peter pants.

Juno makes a noise of assent, and then slides down onto Peter.

It is all too much, tight and hot and overwhelming, and Peter's back arches, head pressed back into the pillows, straining against the restraints. Juno moves slowly; he is not the one in a hurry, and he rides Peter like he will be doing it all night.

"Please," Peter whispers. "Please, please."

Juno leans forward and kisses him. "This is it," he says against Peter's lips. "I'm not doing anything else to you."

"Touch me," Peter begs.

Juno puts his hand in Peter's. The other is braced near Peter's side. He lifts up, slides back down Peter's shaft.

"Say my name," Juno says, and Peter does, over and over as he comes, until his voice is hoarse, until Juno swallows his words with a kiss. 

Juno pulls away and rolls off of Peter. When Peter’s breathing has settled, he says “That was wonderful.”

“Mm, glad we agree,” Juno says. He kisses Peter’s jaw and then lifts himself to undo Peter’s cuffs. “How are your wrists?”

“You got the soft cuffs for a reason, dear.”

“And you fought them the whole time.” Juno massages Peter’s wrists and kisses the back of his hands. It is a good thing that Juno is doing it, because Peter feels too wrung out to do it himself.

Juno pulls the blankets up over them and wraps around Peter’s side. “You think I should wear the boots on our next date?”

“Only if you warn me ahead of time.”

Juno huffs. “I think I would rather surprise you.”

**Author's Note:**

> > This started as nothing more than an errant thought, and then it kept going. 
> 
> > I hope I made it clear, but Juno and Peter are bratty and possessive because they're in a stable relationship and know that they actually respect each other's autonomy. Also because they're bratty and possessive. 
> 
> > Apologies for the sarcasm around the term Daddy. I'm not yucking anyone's yums, but Cecil Kanagawa has put the final nail in that coffin for me.


End file.
